


Kissed By A Thorn

by aflaminghalo



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: ASBAR - Freeform, All Star Batman and Robin - Freeform, Kissing, M/M, Rating will change, Seriously chapter two is sending me to hell, Verbal Abuse, power struggles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-28 02:08:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6310939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aflaminghalo/pseuds/aflaminghalo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ASBAR. Bruce should know better than anyone that Dick has no boundaries, no limits, and no problem pushing back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kissed By A Thorn

"Looking for tips?”

The kid shrieks. An actual shriek, that breaks on the top note as his body attempts a vertical take-off. Bruce should be pissed, that after all the years and training, he’s managed to get this close to Dick, but really, he’s Batman. Nobody should be able to hear him coming unless he wants them to. Not even the kid. 

He’s pretty sure that he’ll be able to hear the ghost of Dick’s shocked screech bumping around the cave for a good month though. And if not, he’ll still have the memory. Those are, as they say, golden. 

“NO. I was… it was just an autoplay.” 

Normally the kid is grace personified, but watching him wrestle the tablet case closed is a lesson in physical comedy - fingers scrabbling at the plastic, suddenly unable to work the simple mechanism; hunching over, trying to use the rest of his body to hide it from Bruce’s view. 

Bruce takes it; pulling the thin rectangle from Dick’s grip with one big hand, using the other to keep the kid at bay as he flips it open and studies the kid’s browsing history. He swings around, holding the tablet over his head where Dick can’t reach it. He might be feisty, but he’s still a midget, thank god. 

“Tsk, tsk, tsk.” Bruce sucks his breath. “What do we have here? How to kiss with tongue? How to kiss like WOW!” He affects the vocal stylings of a particular type of teenage girl for that one. “How to kiss dirty?” He raises a scandalized eyebrow at Dick. “Do I need to put a kiddy lock on the internet?” He pauses for a moment, his face opening with revelation as he brings the tablet to his chest. “Did you meet someone at school?” 

Dick’s scowl deepens as he struggles against the hand keeping him at arm’s length. Bruce sends him to the same all boys academy that he went to. 

Fact is, he’d bet the mansion, the whole pile, on the cause of Dick’s surreptitious googling being the Batgirl he’s seen swinging around; all big eyes and under-trained exuberance. And he really should have put a stop to that, for so many other reasons, but he didn’t and here they are. Hormones and puppy love. 

“That’s not funny Bruce. OTHER kids get to go to schools with girls, and OTHER kids get to go to parties and hang out and be...” 

He pushes Dick once, hard, making him step back. To his credit, the kid doesn’t try to rush him again. 

“Yeah, well OTHER kids don’t get to hang out with The Batman and kick bad guy ass.” 

He’s been getting better about that, about not giving in to the desire to defend himself whenever the kid isn’t being suitable impressed. Which is actually a lot more of the time than he’d like, but god help him, sometimes the kid makes him lose more control than any crook he’s ever come up against. 

Dick shoots him a look of pure dripping derision, like Bruce has just said the dorkiest thing he’s ever heard. He’s been getting very good at that look lately. It’s not one of his better qualities. “I can’t imagine how they survive.” 

“I’m sure they’d be a helluva lot more grateful than you are, you little punk.” 

“Yeah, live in a cave, constantly on the watch for rats trying to eat your cape, work with a psycho creep, never have any real human contact… dream job.” 

Bruce holds the tablet out to Dick, gripping it between two fingers like it’s a soiled sock. He hesitates then snatches it away, clutching it to his stomach. 

“Who do you think you’re going to be kissing anyway, seeing how you’re kept in a cave with only me and the rats for company?” 

Dick flushes again. He probably hoped they were past that topic, but he should know better. There’s no way Bruce is letting this go. It really is too good. 

“Because Black Canary is not your speed. And Wonder Woman… ” He whistles, long and low. “Even I wouldn’t get caught up with that one. Of course there’s always Cat-” 

“Nobody.” Dick interjects. “I’m not kissing anyone, I’m never kissing anyone, and I’ll die not kissing anyone, OK? Happy now?” 

“Well if that’s your attitude, I wouldn’t be surprised.” 

Dick screeches again - just a little one - and shoves Bruce. Or tries to. Bruce doesn’t let himself budge. 

“Look, all I want is to kiss-” a pause there that Bruce makes note of, “someone and not humiliate myself and I don’t need you trying to humiliate me before it’s even happened. Ok? And I’m sure that you took yourself off to deepest darkest wherever-the-hellistan and got trained in all the mystical kissing arts,” Dick shakes the tablet, “but some of us have to take what we can get.” 

Bruce stares at him, nonplussed, then barks a laugh. “Mystical kissing arts?” 

Dick is suddenly, intently, focused on grinding the toe of his boot into the rock floor. “Or wherever it was you learnt to be a good kisser. I don’t know. But the point is,” He looks up and jabs a finger in Bruce’s direction, “you know and I don’t and at this rate I never will and I might as well just stay down here with the rats forever.” 

“I’m a good kisser?” 

“Aren’t you? You get to kiss enough girls.” 

It feels like another accusation, but it is actually true. He’s always getting hit on - by grateful victims all jacked up on adrenaline and not dying; by smoking hot criminals crazy enough to think they can get one past him; and smoking hot vigilantes crazy enough to think they can tame him. Even Bruce Wayne, for reasons beyond him, is catnip to a certain type. 

“Listen kid,” Bruce leans into Dick like he’s imparting a great secret. “I’m Batman. And I’m loaded. I don’t need to be a good kisser.” 

Dick looks past him, focussing on the far wall. “Well, that’s not what the gossip columns say.” 

Bruce smiles and lets all his teeth show; he feels like a wolf chasing a lamb down. He can guess which gossip column Dick means. “You checking up on me? Should I be wondering about you?” 

Dick scowls, his eyes right back on Bruce again. “You’re the one who’s always telling me to research everything.” 

Bruce backs up. “I do, don’t I? I’m also always telling you that knowledge is nothing without application. So even if you did manage to get a thank you peck, this,” he taps the tablet case, hard against Dick’s stomach, “wouldn’t do you any good.” 

“It’s this or nothing. I only ever get to see real people at school. And when I’m not there, I’m here.” 

“If you never see anyone, why are you so worried about kissing someone then?” 

“Why are you so worried about me being worried?” Dick’s glare has grown the shard in it, the one Bruce knows means Dick’s about to really go for it, to show Bruce that as much as he wants to he can’t control Dick and probably never could. “I think you just hate to think I might get close to anyone. You don’t want me being normal because then I might go off and have a real life instead of hanging around down here with giant robot dinosaurs that don’t even do anything.” 

He knows the kid’s just being petty, lashing out. They do tons of cool stuff together that doesn’t involve the dinosaur. Besides, show him one kid who wouldn’t love a giant robot dinosaur, it’s totally sweet. 

“Nothing would make me happier than to see you being someone else’s problem. Believe me.” He thinks that hit might have landed, but the flint in Dick’s eyes just hardens. 

“OK. I believe that without me it would just be you down here talking to Dino.” 

“Yeah? Fine. Come here.” 

“Why?” Dick scrunches his face up with suspicion as Bruce gestures to the spot in front of himself. 

“Why do you think? You want to learn to kiss so you can find your true love and get out of here. I want you out of here... It’s fate.” 

Goddamn that kid. If he had a superpower it would be pushing Bruce’s buttons so hard that they crack. 

“Really?” Dick steps back and hugs his arms even tighter around his middle, around his tablet. 

“Hey, you’re the one who thinks I’ve got mystical kissing secrets to impart.” 

He can see Dick working the angles over in his head before he walks over to Bruce. Body tense, like he’s expecting to step on a trap-door. 

“Closer, kid. I’m not going to bite you.” He smirks “That’s the advanced class.” 

Dick’s expression shifts to exaggerated disgust but he comes in another few steps. Bruce sighs heavily, and closes the gap between them. Chest to chest Dick is still a good foot shorter than Bruce. The kid’s overdue for a growth spurt but he’s probably always going to be a titch. 

He does like the way it makes the boy look up at him though; his expression expectant, and his big blue eyes peeking through his lashes. It definitely beats the perpetual scowl the kid’s been cultivating. He pulls the tablet out of Dick’s hands and puts it on the desk beside him. 

“You know what I say about learning.” 

“Investigation, application, repetition.” Dick nods his head with the words. 

“So?” 

“So…?” The kid’s eyes are even wider now, like he wants to say it but the words are just too insane, even for down in the cave. Bruce dips his head slightly. It’s meant to be encouraging. 

Dick reaches up to Bruce’s neck, wraps his arm around it. He can just get his fingers on the back of the cowl, tugging him forward just a bit; uncertain and un-pushy. It’s not like the kid at all. 

Bruce refuses to bend any further. “You should probably get used to kissing people taller than you.” 

Dick flings his arms wide and twirls around, away from Bruce. “Ok, fine. I’m done. You’re just sick in the head. Really sick.” 

There are so many moments in his life, Bruce knows, that if he ever chose to look back he would see so many moments where he should have stopped, so many points which any reasonable person would never have reached. 

He’s never been a reasonable person. He’s never even been mistaken for one. 

He grasps Dick’s shoulder and spins him back around, tilting the kids face back with one gloved hand and pushes his mouth against Dick’s. It’s not a hard kiss; nothing passionate, or aggressive, or intent. None of the things he’d do if he really wanted to leave an impression - just a basic press of his lips to Dick’s. 

Dick squeaks at the contact, his big eyes widening. But when Bruce lets him go for once he doesn’t have anything to say – no cutting remark, sarcastic put down, or snort of derision. If he’d realized that was a possibility, he’d have kissed the kid sooner. 

“There, your first kiss. And from The Batman himself. Congratulations. I’ll order flowers.” He moves over to the low couch that he generally ignores in favour of his chair and sprawls out on it. “Happy now?” 

Dick’s jaw seems to have unhinged itself, bouncing like it’s on the end of a spring. “That does not count as my first kiss.” 

“It was a kiss, on your mouth, from someone else. Sure it counts.” 

“I wasn’t even ready.” 

“Ready for what? It’s a kiss, not a rocket launch.” 

Bruce can see the moment Dick makes his decision, the moment he decides to decide. He sees it a lot - the kid moves _then_ chooses where he’s going. It’s a dangerous habit, and one he’s tried to smother, but every time he thinks he’s conquered it, it springs back up like a mushroom. 

Dick strides over to the couch until his knees bump Bruce’s, then keeps coming, kneeling up on Bruce’s legs to clasp Bruce’s jaw. 

Dick’s hands are tentative only at the first touch, his usual boldness replacing it almost immediately; his fingers are bare and warm and slightly sticky against Bruce’s jaw as they grope for the best way to hold him, to move Bruce the way Dick wants him. 

He could take hold of the boy’s wrists and hold him away. He could push him, throw him off his lap, spread his knees wide and let Dick fall to the ground. He could apologize, tell Dick to stop, tell him that this is going further than he meant it to. 

He could do any of those things. He _should_ do any of those things. 

But isn’t this why he wanted the kid in the first place? His ability to improvise; to leap before looking for the net; to push. 

Bruce holds Dick’s gaze instead. “Figured it out yet, kid? I’ve had shorter dates.” 

“Shut. Up.” Dick’s eyes are sharp again. He digs his fingers into Bruce’s jaw. 

“Or what?” It’s the fault in him, his fatal flaw - He loves to wind Dick up, wind him up and watch him run. He’s always known it would get him in trouble, but he’d assumed it would be trouble with the bleeding hearts in that little gang of meddlers, trouble he could control. 

Dick kisses him, pressing his lips hard against Bruce’s, nothing more than he just gave the boy. He pulls back to glare at Bruce, narrowed eyes accusing him. Bruce gives Dick a mild look in return; he’s not worried, not at all. 

Dick comes back in, braver now he knows he can be, his tongue swiping at Bruce’s lips until he opens up and lets him in. 

Maybe there’s something in those videos after all. Maybe Dick’s been practicing on his hand or pillow or maybe it’s just one more of his innate gifts because the boy’s just as daring in this as he is in everything else. He slides down against Bruce, pulling his hair, sliding his tongue deeper into the kiss, trying to dominate as much of it as he can. 

Bruce clenches his fingers into his thighs, determined not to respond to Dick’s tongue, hot and wet against his own, determined to not grab Dick’s thighs and pull him in even closer, not do any of the usual things he does when he’s being kissed. To not slide his own tongue into Dick’s mouth, take control, and make the kid’s knee’s buckle like scrap paper screwed up in a fist. 

Dick’s fingers slide along his jaw and Bruce can feel the arch in Dick’s spine, the heat, the warmth of his body. Can feel first-hand the way the kid’s body fills with direction, the way it’s beyond his control just as much as Dick’s mind is. He holds on to the kid’s hips and braces him at arms-length. It’s the only thing he can think to do, the only thing he’s done tonight that might keep him out of hell. 

Dick sucks Bruce’s bottom lip between his teeth and catches it with a canine; a sharp little shock of pain. Bruce can taste the blood pooling beneath the skin. He slides his tongue back into Bruce’s mouth, another hot swipe of muscle, then repeats his trick, holding Bruce’s face tighter and biting harder until Bruce gasps, hands clutching at the back of Dick’s thighs, his hips flexing instinctively into the space he’s forced between them. 

The boy’s pupils are shot, his face is flushed, and his mouth is red. It’d be a good look for him if he didn’t look so knowing with it. It infuriates Bruce more than the lapse in his control. 

“What?” 

Dick pushes himself off Bruce’s lap, wiping his mouth, sticky with their spit. “You’re never going to last without me.” He stalks into the darkness of the cave, triumphant. 

Bruce can hear the elevator rumble up through its channel of rock. He twists his hands in the material of his cape and pulls at it until he stops his circulation, holds them there until it hurts.


End file.
